


a delicate boy in the hysterical realm

by SafelyCapricious



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Season/Series 01, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5547500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SafelyCapricious/pseuds/SafelyCapricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s late enough that it’s rolled around to early again when he gets done with his mission. Technically he’s on downtime according to SHIELD, but Garrett needed him to make a delivery and so he’s spent the past thirty-six hours playing courier.</p>
<p>Now he's home, home with Jemma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a delicate boy in the hysterical realm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jdphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/gifts).



> There is potentially some upsetting material, so if you're worried, please see end note! Though it will contain spoilers for the story.
> 
> Title from "Cherry Lips" by Garbage.
> 
> This is a MUCH belated birthday fic for JD (because I am a failure at deadlines, but I love her a lot, so I hope she accepts this anyways, despite the delay.)

It’s late enough that it’s rolled around to early again when he gets done with his mission. Technically he’s on downtime according to SHIELD, but Garrett needed him to make a delivery and so he’s spent the past thirty-six hours playing courier.

The apartment isn’t completely dark though – Jemma's left the light on in the kitchen. He knows it was probably on last night too, since she doesn’t know when he’ll be home, but it still makes him smile as he turns it off on his way to the bedroom.

She’s sprawled across the bed, her form faintly illuminated by the small light from the bathroom. Jemma always sleeps small and contained when he’s with her, curled up against his side, hand over his heart. He likes to think she sprawls because she’s looking for him when he’s not there – hands grasping across the bedspread for him. (She says she likes to sprawl, but his presence keeps her from it.)

He’s dusty, bloody, and sweaty and he needs a shower, but she’s a very enticing picture. More enticing when a gentle tug on the sheet covering her shows that she’s wearing one of his shirts.

He forces himself away from the bed and into the shower. He doesn’t want to wake her and he knows how she feels about him getting mission dirt in their bed.

He’s rewarded when, ten minutes later, she comes into the bathroom, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

Her smile is soft as she looks him over, and he turns under her perusal to show that he did manage to come back injury free. Her smile is brighter when he’s again facing her, and then she’s leaning into the shower cubicle to give him a light kiss. Jemma's still shaky, he can see, so as much as he wants to drag her into the shower he resists. He knows that even among the slippery wet he could keep her safe and secure, but he’d rather be able to lose himself in her without having to worry about anything holding him back.

He does, however, cup the back of her neck to deepen the kiss. When she pulls away to murmur, “Hurry up,” against his lips, her voice is already husky and her eyes are already dark.

His shower is quick, after that, and he’s still damp when he emerges from the bathroom.

It takes two steps to cross to where she’s standing by the window and wrap her up in his arms so he can kiss her. Jemma shivers into the kiss and he tangles his fingers in her hair.

She fits perfectly in his arms, warm weight pressed against his fast chilling skin. He hasn’t bothered with even a towel, but her fingers trail over his back before she latches on, shifting so she’s leaning her cheek against his chest, her skin slowly heating his. He kisses the top of her head and lets his hands smooth down her hair.

She’s not wearing anything underneath his shirt.

He settles one hand on her hip, the other holding the shirt up and resting against the small of her back.

“Are you still having the dream?” he asks, finally, when she doesn’t move or say anything for several long minutes.

Jemma lets out a heavy breath and nods, not moving out of his grip or looking up at him. “Yes.”

He kisses the top of her head again and lets her shirt fall back into place so he can smooth her hair down with his hand. “I’ll keep it away, let’s go to bed.” Jemma's tired and it’s not the time.

She tilts her head up and he gives her the kiss she’s asking for, but keeps it chaste and fast. She pouts at him. “No.”

He presses another kiss to her mouth and smiles. “No?”

She digs her nails into his back and uses one hand to pull his mouth to hers – this kiss is punishing and deep. “No. Fuck me until I’m so exhausted I can’t dream.”

He lets her control the kiss for another moment before shifting and pulling her up against him so her feet aren’t touching the ground. He pulls his mouth away from hers and despite her pulling doesn’t close the distance for a long moment. “Is that an order?”

Jemma mock glares and says, put out, “Yes. Your c—“ and then he’s kissing her, hard, taking the words out of her mouth, though he can still feel her saying them. She pulls back, pants and tries to finish, but he swallows that word too, feeling a thrill as she breathes it into his mouth. Finally he gives her a moment to breathe, smirking at her and shifting against her until she’s arching into it, and kisses her again. He keeps control of the kiss easily as he carries her the last few paces to the bed.

He stops, still holding her, and curls a hand under her thigh until she takes the hint and wraps it around his waist. The angle lets him feel how wet she is, and he bites his pleasure into the curve of her throat.

She wants him to fuck her until she’s exhausted, but she’s already shaking in his arms – and not just from arousal – so he slips his fingers from her lush heat, swallowing her mew with his mouth, and tugs her leg back down off his hip.

She doesn’t resist, turning in his arms when he moves her. Jemma settles on the bed easily, twisting with his touch until he’s got her hips propped up with a pillow, her beautiful ass presented up as the most inviting thing he’s seen in weeks.

He sucks in a breath and lets it out in a rattle before kneeling on the bed behind her. He smooths a hand down her side and without any pressure she lets him guide her hips even further up. Her eyes flutter closed and he can hear her breath catch in her throat where her face is turned on the pillow. He presses a kiss against the small of her back. “If you get tired or want me to stop, baby, just say so, any time, and I’ll stop. Or if you need to change positions, okay?”

Jemma cracks open an eye and shoots him a stern look, though her mouth is curled in a smile. “Just fuck me, Grant.”

He laughs, warmth blooming in his chest like always with the use of his name, and leans forward, body blanketing hers, because he can’t not kiss her.

She bites his lip just sharp enough to remind him of what he’s doing, and so he curves a hand along her front, pushing his shirt back up against her chest in teasing patterns before tracing his fingers down until he can curl them into her. She moans into his mouth and he swallows it greedily.

The first orgasm is always easy to coax from her, taking steady pressure against her clit and teasing touches to her lips, and she’s shattering in his arms before he has to pull back for air.

It’s a simple matter to use his free hand to hold her hip and use his other hand to guide himself inside her, though she breaks away from his mouth to gasp and push back. He obliges her, shifting his weight off of her back to give her a better angle.

She’s warm and wet and tight around him and it feels like coming home. He throws his head back and breathes.

He bottoms out and has to pause to calm his own pulse, but she clearly doesn’t feel the same and she shifts her hips insistently against him.

He gives her what she wants; he always gives her what she wants.

The goals from earlier are clear, so he doesn’t waste time being gentle, it’s obvious she doesn’t want that. Instead he sets a punishing rhythm that has his skin smacking into hers and his cock plunging in and out of her. The room is filled with the filthy noises of fucking.

Jemma writhes and claws at the comforter, but the noises she’s making are pure pleasure.

He shifts his angle, just slightly, until he’s managing to get the high pitched panting whine from her that tells him he’s rubbing her g-spot just right. It takes longer, this time, and he has to slow his pace when she starts to tighten around him to keep from coming. Of course, she pushes back into him and pants out a “More!” and he has to oblige her.

His vision goes a little grey around the edges when she finally comes, but he manages to hold himself back from joining her.

She stretches out more, only his hands keeping her hips up, and he slows his pace. She’s shaking, faintly, but she’ll want at least one more orgasm before she’s willing to try to sleep again, and he’s more than happy to give it to her.

Her eyes are closed, eyelashes making small shadows on the cheek he can see, and a small smile curls her lips. She looks peaceful.

He uses his knees to push her legs open, just a touch more, which drops her weight and changes the angle just enough that her peaceful expression is shattered with a gasp. She tries to roll her hips back into his but the new angle makes it hard, and she starts to frown before he starts up a slow, deep pace that steals the breath from her lungs.

One hand stays on her hip while the other runs up her side, pushing the shirt out the way so that he can palm her breast. She spasms, for a moment, around him, when he squeezes just so, and so he slips his other hand to her breasts as well.

He’s holding most of her weight on his thighs, at this point, while he plays with her tits and she gasps, near soundless, into the cool air of the room. He shifts his weight, kisses the back of her neck, and then moves a hand down to where he’s sliding in and out of her.

It doesn’t take much pressure against her clit before she’s coming, and since she doesn’t immediately tell him to stop he uses the hand still on her chest to haul her up against his chest. Her fingernails leave marks where they scrabble over his shoulders and the back of his neck – wherever they can reach – as he rubs even faster against her clit.

“Come – I want you to come, too!” Jemma gasps out, breathless.

He obeys her after he’s sure he’s wrung all he can of her orgasm out of her. He loses time, briefly, as his noises join hers in the quiet of their house. His arms are shaking slightly, when he's done, all his muscles feeling weak with the force of it, and he barely manages to lower them – catching their descent with a hand still wet from her cunt. He sets her down gently and Jemma immediately tries to curl up. He can’t help but hiss, slightly, when he’s pulled from her, but she doesn’t even seem to notice, covering a yawn with the back of her hand.

He brushes hair out of her face and leans down to kiss her forehead. “Jemma, baby, we need to clean up.”

“Don’t want’a,” she slurs, sex drunk and soft. But she’s the one who’s given him numerous lectures about the health risks of not doing so, and those are standing orders, so he picks her up easily and carries her into the bathroom.

It’s still warm from his shower, though the porcelain is still cool to the touch, so he sets a towel down on the counter before setting her down on it. He cleans himself quickly and then wets a washcloth with warm water and takes his time on her. Only when she’s grumbling and batting at his hands does he finally leave her be, with a laugh.

While she finishes up in the bathroom, he quickly strips and remakes the bed. He also grabs a fresh glass of water for her and makes sure their phones are charging before she’s even pushed the door open – and then he’s on her again, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her back to the bed.

Jemma laughs at him and curls, warm and willing, into his arms when he gets them settled back into the bed. Half asleep, she mumbles something into his breastbone; he smiles fondly and brushes her hair out of her face. “Happy to comply,” he says, and drifts off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler/Warning: The last line indicates that Grant is brainwashed, and given the sex prior to that line there's some very real dub con/non con issues.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> As always, my writing tumblr is [here](http://capriciouswrites.tumblr.com/)! Come say hi!


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